


Time & Starlight

by elrey



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, MSR, Punk Scully, The 90s, hipster mulder, like there's romance but it's vague but it's there, txf college au, txf: college au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrey/pseuds/elrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dana Scully is unsure of herself, always trying to balance who she should be with who she wants to be. Fox Mulder is unrelentingly who he is. Together they pursue The Truth and find each other. With midterms in-between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freshman Year: The First Semester

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first txf college au and my first X-Files fic period! I love this au so I wanted to give fellow fans something new to read. I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading. There will ultimately be 5 chapters clocking in around 10k+. Shout out to punkscully for coming up with the college au! As well as everyone who has already contributed to it in the form of fic, art, and playlists.
> 
> If you'd like you can follow me on tumblr at specialagentfoxmulder.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks!

_Why is she nervous. There is nothing to be nervous about. Why is she nervous._ She’s already gotten acquainted with the college after moving in a few days ago, having scoped out her classes and gotten everything settled. The first day is tomorrow and all she has to do now is meet with her student advisor. All entering students are assigned an advisor who is meant to guide them throughout their four years at the university. Today is only an introduction, but Dana Scully wants to make a good impression. She sits in a row of chairs outside the office, her legs crossed, a book in her lap. After the third time she realizes she has read the same line over and over again. She’s a half hour early. She fast-forwards through an anxious song on her walkman.

A rush of air hits her as the weight of another person settles into the chair to her left. She glances up through heavy, side-swept bangs, to see a boy, obviously tall despite sitting down, with wire-rimmed glasses and dark messy hair. She stares at him for what feels to her like a full minute before a pause comes between songs and she realizes he is speaking to her. She rips out her left earbud and catches him mid-sentence. 

“... your major?”

“What?” Dana says, louder than necessary.

“I asked you your major. My roommate has this same advisor but he’s a Russian major,” the boy repeats with a quiet but deep voice. “So I’m trying to figure out how they assign advisors.”

“Oh! Uh, Physics.”

“Really,” he says, the wheels in his brain appearing to churn. 

“Does that help?” Dana asks.

The boy’s expression doesn’t change. “No, not really.” He stretches out in his seat to reach into his pocket, pulling out a bag of sunflower seeds. “You must be smart.” He offers Dana the already opened bag.

She waves a hand to indicate no thank you. “Well I haven’t actually gotten any grades yet.”

“Come on, Physics? I’m in the lowly Liberal Arts. You’re preparing to put yourself through torture with prereqs alone.”

She shrugs. “What’s your name?”

“Mulder.”

“Mulder.” She raises an eyebrow. “Just Mulder?”

“Just Mulder.” He shifts his gaze to his hands.

“I’m Dana Scully, in case you were curious.” When Mulder opens his mouth to apologize she cuts him off. “What’s your major?”

“Psychology.” He gives her a look that Dana can’t quite decipher. “Don’t start in telling me it’s useless degree, believe me, I know. I’m already committing to grad school.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, her lips forming a small smile. “I’m in the same boat, really. What good is a Bachelors in Physics? I’m Pre-Med.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up, forming his first discernible facial expression. “So not only are you wicked smart, you’re a doctor. Dana Scully, M.D.” He pops a sunflower seed. “Color me impressed, Doctor.”

“One day,” she says, smiling wider. A girl with corkscrew hair walks out of the office then, the door closing behind her and she makes her way down the hall. “You could be a doctor, too, you know, if you get your Ph.D.” 

“The last thing I want is to be a shrink.” He pours a few more seeds into his palm and replaces the rolled up bag in his pocket. “They’ll suck the life out of you. I got other plans,” he says with a wink.

In the moment Dana takes to form her next question, Mulder asks his own. “Dr. Scully, tell me -- do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” His tone almost makes it sound like a joke, but Dana senses he is serious.

“Um,” her eyes dart around as she considers her response to such an odd question. “Logically, I would have to say no.”

Mulder smiles like he expected such an answer, and before he can say anything else, the office door opens and a bald man with round glasses pokes his head out. “Fox,” the man says to no one in particular, causing Mulder to look up suddenly. “Fox Mulder.”

Dana’s smile turns sly and she mouths, “Fox?” at Mulder, who responds with a grimace before standing. “Professor Skinner,” he says, entering the office, and soon Dana is left alone again.

She doesn’t bother at another attempt to read her book. She puts her hand over her mouth in an attempt to wipe the smile off her face, but succeeds only in smearing her dark red lipstick. By the time she’s finished correcting and reapplying it, Mulder exits the office.

“See you around, Dr. Scully,” he says as he walks past her.

“For sure, Fox.”

He turns on his heel, continuing to walk backwards. “Come on, even my parents call me Mulder.” He turns back around to face the direction in which he walks. “Skinner’s ready for you, by the way,” he calls over his shoulder.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for their paths to cross again. Turns out they live on the same floor of the same building -- the Honors dorm. Mulder had failed to show up to previous Get-to-Know-You floor events, so it’s a surprise to Dana when she sees him at a party hosted by in the room of another boy, Jeff, who’s already established himself as the most popular kid of their group.

She shows up late, having dedicated the earlier evening hours to finishing the week’s homework, to find Mulder surrounded by their drunken floormates, who are all laughing though he doesn’t join them. He’s wearing what can only be described as a nerd sweater beneath a denim jacket decorated with pins that read “The Truth is Out There” and “Trust No1.” 

Dana approaches the group, hidden from Mulder’s view thanks to being several inches shorter than even Timothy, a boy of five foot three.

Jeff’s voice breaks through the laughter. “You can always count on Spooky Mulder for entertainment.” The laughter increases at the nickname, and thinking back on Mulder’s question about extraterrestrials, Dana thinks the name might be fitting. She considers laughing to join in with the group, but the look on Mulder’s face indicates she shouldn’t. “Spooky, tell them about your Big Foot theory.”

Dana detects a flash of defiance in Mulder’s eyes. “Which one?”

When the laughter picks up again Dana wedges herself between Jeff and another boy. “This guy can’t be serious!” someone exclaims. Dana can’t exactly figure out why she feels a certain protectiveness over a guy who’s a solid foot taller than her, a guy she’s met once, briefly, but she knows she doesn’t him to be the butt of a joke. “Hi, Mulder. Would you mind helping me with something?” Mulder’s eyes soften when they meet hers.

The boy to her right whispers, “I’ll help you out, honey,” and she resists stomping his foot with her combat boot. She grabs Mulder by the wrist and pulls him through the crowd, then the room, out into the hall. 

“Dr. Scully,” he says after the music is turned up in their wake. “I had a feeling I’d see you again.”

“What was going on in there, Mulder?” 

“Oh, I was just telling my friends about alien abductions.”

Mulder’s voice is so monotone, she can’t be sure if he’s being sarcastic or dead serious. “They didn’t sound very friendly ... Maybe that’s not the best topic of conversation to have with a bunch of Know-It-Alls and wannabe frat boys.”

Mulder grins. “You don’t have to look at me like some kind of wounded puppy; I’m well-aware they were making fun of me.” Dana is relieved but confused. Mulder picks up on that. “I’ll take any opportunity to educate the masses, I can handle some gentle bullying.” He pulls out a card with a magnetic strip out of his back pocket. “Anyway, what I was really after was this.”

Scully runs her tongue along her back teeth. “Okay, what is it?”

“It’s a key. One that’ll gain us access to the office of the most powerful man on campus. My old pal Jeffrey was clever enough to steal it from his father but not enough not to brag about it.”

“Jeff’s father ... is President Kersh?” 

Mulder puts a hand on Dana’s back, leading the way to the stairwell. She’s curious enough to let him. “Despite popular belief, Kersh is not actually the most powerful man on campus. No, the guy I’m after is Associate Dean Spender. Or as I affectionately call him, Cancer Man.”

“How exactly is an associate dean more powerful than a university president?” They begin making their way down the stairs.

“The university power structure, similar to that of the United States Government, is a facade. Believe me, Spender’s the guy.”

The pair step out into the cool September night air. “That’s your theory.”

“It’s no theory, Dr. Scully. Up for some late night sleuthing?”

“Mulder...,” she begins, but she can’t deny her interest is piqued. She sighs. “What are you even trying to find? Unauthorized allocation of tuition funds?”

“While that would be rightfully scandalous, I’m looking for something a little more insidious.”

Dana struggles to keep up with Mulder’s long strides as they make their way across campus. “And what’s that?”

He looks back at her and slows his pace down just enough. “I have reason to believe Spender is involved in a deep-seated and far-reaching government conspiracy involving a cover-up of the existence of extraterrestrials.”

Dana stops in her tracks and Mulder continues on a few more steps before realizing and stopping himself. He turns to face her. “What?”

She eyes Mulder’s pins again. “You really believe in aliens, then?”

“Of course. You’re a scientist, right, Doctor? You can’t really believe we’re alone in this universe?”

“While yes, I agree that there is the potential for life on other planets in other galaxies, what you’re talking about is ... a little science-fiction, don’t you think?”

“No.”

She sighs again, rubbing her arms. “Let’s say you’re right, that there are little green men in flying saucers somewhere out there, what does the government have to do with that? Not to mention -- what does a college dean have to do with the government?”

Mulder’s face brightens and Dana gets the feeling that not many people humor his ideas long enough to engage him in such a conversation. “That’s just it,” he says, “Spender’s a lot more than just some college dean. I admit I don’t know -- I don’t know exactly what he is, but I know for a fact that he’s a key player in this conspiracy.”

Dana joins Mulder again in their walk. “Where is all this coming from? You must know this is more than just a little out there.”

Mulder removes his jacket and hands it to her. She accepts it wordlessly and puts it on, grateful for the extra protection against the brisk wind. “I called Jeffrey an old friend, right? I wasn’t kidding. His father used to be a friend of my parents.”

“Used to be.”

“They had a falling out, _much_ to my dismay. I knew the guy was weird, even as a kid. And a couple months ago I found a bunch of old boxes of my father’s in the attic of our summer house. My father has an important position at the State Department, and he used to work with Spender. In these boxes there were pictures, pictures of Spender in the 1950s at the military base in Roswell, New Mexico.” He waits as if expecting a reaction from Dana before continuing. “And there were all kinds of notes, files even, signed off on by Spender -- he was involved in Operation Paperclip, and not the one you learned about in American History 301. They were collecting information about people, _genetic_ information.”

“I’m failing to see what that has to do with aliens.”

It’s Mulder’s turn to sigh. “You’ll have to trust me.”

Dana purses her lips, pointing to the Trust No1 pin on her borrowed jacket.

“See, you’re already learning something.”

They arrive at a brick-facade apartment building at the edge of campus and Mulder leads the way downstairs.

“Have you spoken to your father about what you found? Maybe he has a reasonable explanation?”

Mulder stifles a laugh. “My father won’t speak to me about any of this stuff, I learned that a long time ago.”

“One more question before we go breaking and entering into this man’s office ... don’t you think Jeff is gonna notice the keycard is missing? And that Dean Spender is gonna notice the keycard is missing?”

“I am way ahead of you, Dr. Scully,” he says, stopping outside a basement-level door. He knocks on it twice quickly, pauses a moment, and knocks three more times. 

A guy with thick black-rimmed glasses and scraggly blond hair -- like some kind of Wayne’s World ripoff -- opens the door. “Muldo! Welcome!” He spots Dana. “And you brought a lady, that’s risky -- be careful around Frohike. Come in.”

Mulder looks back at Dana, absorbing her baffled expression. “I do have a few friends around here.”

Dana steps into the room, which looks like some kind of media office, and takes in the sight of two equally odd-looking students to the first. 

“Meet Langly, Frohike, and Byers,” Mulder says, “The editors of your campus’s most favorite zine, The Lone Gunmen. Gunmen, meet Dr. Dana Scully.”

“Enchanté,” the wiry-haired one, Frohike, says, lightly kissing the back of her hand before she promptly removes it from his grasp.

“Apologies for this one,” says Byers, who somehow dresses in even dorkier sweaters than Mulder. “Nice to meet you, Dana.”

She gives them a tight-lipped smile and turns to Mulder to silently ask what they’re doing here.

“Got the keycard,” he says, handing it to Langly. “You guys can really copy this?”

“Absolutely,” Langly says. “We’ve been waiting to put this encoder to good use.” He motions to a bulky piece of equipment at the back of the room.

“Of course, if Associate Dean Spender sees that anything in his office is amiss, he’ll be quick to have a new one made,” Byers says.

“We just need the one shot,” Mulder says. “For now.”

Dana takes the seat Frohike offers her, wondering just what she’s really gotten herself into. Thank God she finished her homework at the very least.

* * *

They’re deep into the early morning hours by the time the Gunmen are finished copying the card, and they elect Frohike to take the original back to Jeff’s dorm, for which Dana is grateful. Langly accompanies her and Mulder to Spender’s office to work as a lookout while Byers remains at the Lone Gunman office in case they end up needing an alibi. The rational side of Dana is beyond anxious thinking about the potential trouble they could all get in -- her father would surely disown her if she got expelled from college -- but she can’t help the thrill that travels up her spine as Mulder slides the card through and the lock flashes green. Langly shoots them a confident thumbs up and they make their way inside the faculty building.

Mulder is silent, so she is, too, taking the opportunity to notice how strangely advanced the technology of the building seems to be. Especially for a university that’s been cutting majors left and right as a result of budget cuts.

Mulder follows a handwritten map that Byers gave him and after climbing several flights of stairs they arrive at an office with no nameplate. He raises his eyebrows at Dana as if to ask, “Ready?” She replies with a nod and Mulder slides the card slowly through the lock. She holds her breath until the light flashes green and they’re in.

They are accosted with the lingering smell of stale smoke and Dana gags a little. Cigarette smoke is only good when you’re the one smoking them.

Mulder clears his throat. “He’s called Cancer Man for a reason.”

“So again,” Dana whispers, “what exactly are we looking for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it. Start with the filing cabinets. I’ll search the desk.”

She has no idea what that means, but opens a cabinet as slowly and quietly as possible while Mulder nosily disturbs Associate Dean Spender’s desktop. With a flashlight poised in one hand, she carefully flips through a variety of student files that don’t look particularly out of the ordinary for a college dean’s office. She finds one labeled Jeffrey Spender and reaches for it before stopping herself. This is definitely some kind of federal crime, stealing student records. In the name of what? Some crazy, possibly drunk, alien boy she’s humoring? A wave of regret washes over her as she considers the ridiculous situation she’s allowed herself to get swallowed up in.

“Look at this,” Mulder says, his voice cutting into her anxious thought pattern. “Dr. Scully, look at this!” He slams a thick file on the desktop and Dana squints through the darkness to read the name Fox Mulder, followed by a file number. Her heart rate picks up. “This file’s got everything on me.” He flips through the pages and Dana notices a series of psychological reports between school records and recommendation letters. 

Her eyes widen at one particular document. “You won the Presidential Scholarship?” she nearly shouts, clamping a hand over her mouth for a moment. “They only give that to one student every year ... what did you do that I didn’t? What were your SAT scores?”

Mulder tugs a document out of the file and hands it to her.

“1550?!” Dana had only scored a 1480 herself and despite her personal disappointment in not achieving perfection, she knew objectively it was a great score. “You are kinda spooky, Mulder ...”

Mulder ignores her, preoccupied. “He has another drawer here, but it’s locked, I need another key.” He continues to flip through the file while Dana stands over his shoulder, trying not to read any more private information.

A shrill ring slices through the silence and Dana jumps about half a foot. “Shit,” Mulder says,” pulling out his beeper. “It’s Langly, something’s up. Let’s go.”

Dana resists the urge to cross herself as they hurry out of the office and down the hall to the back stairwell. As they rush down the steps Dana swears she hears another pair of footsteps that do not belong to them. Outside the second floor, she grabs Mulder by the back of his sweater, springing him backwards. “Shh!”

Mulder’s eyes widen when he hears the steps and he opens the door to the second floor, pulling it closed behind Dana. They watch the light of a flashlight illuminate the small door window and wait for the sound of footsteps to become distant before they run to the staircase on the other side of the building. 

When they make it outside, a previously unlit streetlamp shines brightly through the dark and Langly is nowhere to be found. The file is firmly in Mulder’s grasp.

“Mulder!” Dana says, still in a harsh whisper. “Why didn’t you leave it behind!”

“Would it be any less obvious if I left it splayed out there on the desk? At least now I can read it and try to piece together what Spender’s up to.”

Dana shakes her head and waves her arms in a windshield wiper motion. “Forget it, let’s just get out of here before we’re arrested.”

Mulder nods and they take off across the still campus toward the Honors dorm. 

* * *

Outside Dana’s room, Mulder leans against the wall, a shit-eating grin on his face and Dana runs her hands through her hair, calming her frazzled nerves. 

“What the hell are you smiling about, Mulder? Spender’s gonna know we were in his office, we are fucked.” She shakes his jacket off, suddenly hot.

“But that was a lot of fun, wasn’t it, Dr. Scully? How often you do anything like that? You’d make a good UFO hunter, ya know. Little legs but they can really move.”

She almost laughs. Almost. “Can we cool it with the Dr. Scully stuff? I haven’t even completed my residency.”

Mulder does laugh. “Dr. Scully can joke around.” She shoots him a pointed look. “All right, so just Scully then?”

Scully. She fingers the choker around her neck, just one of many aspects of her new look that her parents disapprove of. “Why do you have to wear all the black junk?” her father often said to her when she adopted the style toward the end of high school. Scully seemed to fit in a way her given name didn’t anymore. Dana was not the type of person to break into a college faculty’s office to steal files. Dana did not hang around zine editors or boys with creepy alien conspiracy theories. But here she was.

“Okay, sure. Scully,” she says, careful not to let on that she actually liked the sound of it.

“All right, Scully. I look forward to many a nightly rendezvous with you.” He waves at her with the file.

“Mulder, I am not breaking any more laws, and -- before you ask, I’m not hunting UFOs.”

“We’ll see.” He smiles a small smile. “Good night, Scully.” He begins the walk down the hall to his own room, tossing the jacket over his shoulder.

“Hey, wait!” Dana’s -- Scully’s -- voice is louder than she intends, and Mulder spins around to face her. “Your parents don’t really call you Mulder?”

He shrugs. “Well, they ought to.”

Scully slips into her room and goes to bed without even washing the makeup off her face.


	2. Freshman Year: The Second Semester

The vigorous knocking on her dorm room door can only indicate the arrival of one person.

“I heard about the crop circles, Mulder, and I am not skipping midterms to drive two hours--”

He shoves a box into Scully’s arm and pushes his way into the room. “I need you to keep this stuff for me.”

Scully sets her glasses on the counter next to the sink and closes the door with her sock-covered foot before dropping the box on her bed. She sifts superficially through the box, a collection of Mulder’s research on extraterrestrial life, Operation Paperclip, and the connection to Dean Spender. “What’s going on? Are you ill?” She touches the back of her hand to Mulder’s forehead. “You’re warm.”

He pushes up the sleeves of his turtleneck. “I had to pack all this stuff up quick. I don’t trust Krycek.”

Scully rolls her eyes, plopping down on the squeaky mattress next to the box. She pulls the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. It’s below thirty degrees outside and the dorm has a poor heating system. Mulder looks flushed. “Alex isn’t so bad.” 

“You should see the way he looks at me, Scully, like he’s hungry.” Mulder sits on the bed, one leg folded under him so he can face her.

She smirks. “Is he gay?”

“Not _that_ kind of look--”

“Oh, I dunno, Mulder...”

“How can you not notice it? He’s always asking those strangely specific, leading questions. Like he’s trying to get something out of me.”

“Sure, but I don’t see how he’s any different from anyone else trying to get a rise out of you. You have to admit you make it kind of easy for them.”

He puts a hand on her forearm and squeezes. “I’m telling you, Scully, the guy doesn’t sit right with me. How often am I wrong?”

“You want an honest answer?” she says, a laugh in her voice. Mulder’s intense gaze indicates he’s not in the mood for jokes. “All right, all right, if you’re really worried about it, I’ll find a place for this stuff.”

“Thank you,” he says, the relief obvious. “I know he goes through my journals, my notes, my clippings. Just now I found one of my UFO photos on his desk.”

“You mean the polaroid of the blurry light in the sky?”

His dour demeanor cracks a little. “I’m gonna make a believer out of you, Scully, just you wait.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He scoots back on the bed to lean against the wall, Mulder and Scully’s combined weight causing them to sink toward each other. He takes in the room, comparatively clean and spacious compared to his. “Must be nice not having a roommate.”

Scully pulls her knees up to her chest. “Ahab wanted to spring for a single so I wouldn’t be distracted with my studies. That obviously worked out as he intended.” She motions to the open textbook next to Mulder, highlighted with notes in the margins.

“You could do organic chemistry in your sleep. If you don’t take a break once in a while you actually won’t retain things as well, ya know.”

“Yeah, okay, psych major.”

Mulder smiles, throwing an arm around Scully’s shoulders and stretching his legs out so they hang off the bed. They sit like that for a while before Scully rummages through the box to pull out the file labeled Fox Mulder they stole from Spender’s office. How they avoided even reprimand for that one, Scully still doesn’t know. But she can’t shake the paranoid feeling that she’s been watched ever since. That stale smoky smell from his office seems to follow her around campus. She won’t let Mulder know she entertains such injudicious ideas, though. 

“I have to ask,” she sets the file in her lap, “do you really, truly believe Spender is part of some alien conspiracy? You found what you were looking for months ago and while it’s discomfiting, there’s nothing particularly ... _extraterrestrial_ ... about this file.”

He’s withholding. “I can’t explain it to you right now. All I can say is that I know it’s true. I know it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Mulder, come on, how am I supposed to be with you 100% on this if you won’t even tell me everything?”

His voice grows heavy, quiet. “You just have to trust me on this one, Scully.”

Scully scoffs. “I do trust you, Mulder. Is anyone else following you into the dark chasing after ghosts?” Mulder winces. “But I have to know that you trust me, too.”

“Scully,” he says, pushing a wayward strand of bright red hair behind her ear, “you’re the only one I trust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! More to come. I appreciate all comments and kudos!


	3. Sophomore Year

The Sunday after Thanksgiving Scully arrives back on campus late in the afternoon. She waves goodbye to Ahab and Maggie and lugs her suitcase into the elevator to head up to the top floor.

From the end of the hallway she can see a large figure made small at the foot of her door. “Mulder?” She hurries down the hall, dropping her bag at his feet. He looks up at her only briefly but she sees the tears in his eyes. She kneels down next to him, runs her hand over his hair to coax him to look at her. “How long have you been here?”

“I didn’t go home.”

“You’ve been alone at the dorms all week? What have you been eating, sunflower seeds?” She laughs though she doesn’t find it funny.

“Cool sweatshirt,” he says after wiping his face and finally fixing his eyes on her. She glances down at the skull emblazoned on the black shirt. “I see what you did there, Scully.”

“Mulder, why don’t you come inside and lie down.” She takes another good look at him before daring to stand and unlock the door. She helps him stand and leads him inside to the bed. 

“I couldn’t go home, Scully. I couldn’t face my mother or father and let them lie to me again. It’s been eight years now. Eight years and I still don’t have any answers.”

She kneels down again so that she can look up at Mulder, his head hanging low. She wonders if he’s drunk but knows he’s far too broken up right now for such a simple explanation. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He launches up off the bed and over to Scully’s desk. He opens the bottom drawer and searches through it, pulling out Spender’s file. He kneels down next to Scully, splaying the file out on the bed. “This isn’t what I was looking for last year, Scully. What I wanted ... I have a strong suspicion it’s still waiting in that locked drawer in Cancer Man’s office.”

She stops herself from pushing the hair up off his forehead. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“A file,” he says, purposefully vague. “Just not one on me.”

“Who, then?”

“My sister.”

“Sister? You never told me you had--”

“Had is the operative word. She was taken from me when I was twelve, she was eight. She’s been gone for as long as she was here.” Scully prompts him further. “She was abducted, Scully. I know she was.”

“Abducted,” Scully repeats, taking a moment to process the gravity of what that word means to Mulder.

“That’s right. Samantha was taken from me, and -- and so were my memories of it. It’s like I’ve got a bunch of black holes where memories should be, but I can’t tell you how deep this feeling is. It’s the most important thing to me, finding the truth. The truth of what happened to her.”

Part of Scully has to wonder what kind of childhood trauma Mulder and his sister had to endure to twist it into an alien abduction in his mind. Another part of her inexplicably ... believes him. In that moment, seeing the fervor in his eyes when he speaks, she has to. She doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I don’t understand,” she says and Mulder looks about ready to rip his skin off. “Help me understand,” she finishes.

“I don’t remember that night,” he says, sinking further to the floor. “I used to, I think. It’s like they wrung it out of me.”

“Who?”

“My parents spent a lot of money on shrinks after it happened. I was a kid and they had me on ... thorazine, thioridozine, Welbutrin, diazepam. They turned me into a damn zombie until I finally agreed to stop talking, when I couldn’t even recall what I’d been talking about to begin with.”

All she can say is, “Oh, Mulder.”

“But I never lost the deep-seated knowledge that Samantha was abducted. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. And when I found all that stuff in my father’s attic, it clicked for me. It’s connected. When my sister disappeared my father had half the government looking for her, but he knew. I mean, he has to know. Spender knows, too. I’m gonna find out. I have to. You know, my parents won’t even tolerate me saying her name.”

Scully sits on the edge of the bed, places a hand on Mulder’s shoulder in solidarity. He places his hand over hers. “How does Spender play into this? Fill me in.”

He sniffs, coughs. “In the months before she was taken, Samantha and I heard the three of them -- our mother and father and Spender, arguing. Yelling at each other. It happened a lot. They were arguing about us, me and her. Then once she was taken, Spender was gone, we never saw the man again. My father refused to talk about him, acted like he never existed.” He lets his hand drop to his lap.

She squeezes his shoulder, massaging it, trying to bring him any kind of relief.

“When I found those documents in my father’s attic, documents signed by Spender, I knew. I know he had something to do with it, Scully. My sister wasn’t the only one taken, you know.”

Scully’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve done a lot of research, on abductions all over the United States. There was a huge increase in missing persons reports the week Samantha was taken. Several of whom related to men at various levels in the government.”

She swallows hard, doesn’t know what to say. If this had happened to anyone but Mulder, if this were just another impersonal theory of his, she’d remind him that thousands of people go missing every day, that it doesn’t exactly indicate extraterrestrial life. But it is Mulder, and Scully is not cruel.

“I can hear her voice echoing in my head, calling my name over and over again. Fox. Even doped up on antipsychotics and benzos, I never stopped hearing her calling me.” He’s in tears again.

Biting her bottom lip, she hugs his head to her lap. “I’ll help you. Mulder, we’ll find the truth.”

* * * * * *

Her favorite place to study is a quiet room in the Student Union. She grabs a sandwich from the food cart and takes up a table made for four, spreads her textbooks and notebooks out, her homework on top of that. One reason she likes it is because Mulder never sets foot in the Student Union. At home or the library, she’s vulnerable to Mulder’s spontaneous demands on her time, because he has a _new idea_ that they need to look into _right now._ It’s a safe space.

Still, it doesn’t surprise her when she feels his presence approaching her table, sitting down across from her, dropping his backpack to the floor, opening his sandwich on top of her Classical Dynamics textbook.

She doesn’t look up. “You know, only 14% of students in this prof’s class get an A.”

“Wow, extra bragging rights for you, then,” Mulder says with a full mouth.

She removes her glasses, pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Don’t you ever study, Mulder? I’ve seen your grades, you must at some point.”

“Of course, Scully,” he says, a stern expression on his face. “I study all the time. I take the notes, I read the notes, then I know everything.”

“Color me impressed,” she says dully. “Some of us still have to put in a little effort, though.”

He wipes the crumbs off his hands onto a free sheet of graphing paper. “You put in enough effort for three people.” He crumples up the paper into a ball with the crumbs inside. “I’ve got one more distraction for the semester and then you can study all summer if you want.”

“What is it this time.”

“It’s a fun one, I promise. I assume you heard about that calc prof that was found dead in his office a couple weeks ago.”

She hesitates, totally unsure of where this is going, or how it could possibly be fun. “Yes ...”

“I know who did it.”

“It was a suicide!”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“They?”

“The witch coven that hexed him.”

“You had me and you lost me.” She gathers up her study materials. “I’m going to the library.”

“You think I’m kidding but I’m not.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re kidding.” She stuffs a stack of notebooks into her bag.

He picks up her closed textbook, flips through the pages quickly with his thumb. “The Gunmen have been keeping tabs on this coven for a while. They even interviewed one of them for the zine last year. They practice black magic and they killed him.”

“For what? What warrants killing a professor? Let me guess: he failed them.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. They have a circle here on campus every week at midnight. Has to do with the moon phases. Tonight it’s waxing.” 

“So you’re telling me there’s a secret gathering of campus coed witches that just casually meet up in the middle of the quad to hex people into killing themselves? We have worse campus security than I thought.”

Mulder scrunches up his face, imitating her. “They meet in the wooded area by the creek. It’s a nice central location to all the dorms, really. No one has to walk too far home. C’mon, Scully, let’s have one last hoorah before school’s out, take a break from all the serious stuff.”

She purses her lips, her open bag waiting in her lap. “If we get in trouble for this, this book,” she takes the textbook from Mulder’s grasp, “is going so far up your ass.” She drops the book in the bag, zips it shut, and walks off without so much as a see you later.

“Meet ya at 11:45!”

* * *

“Where’s your flashlight?” Scully asks when she finds Mulder in the lobby of the dorm.

They begin the short walk to the supposed coven meeting place. “We can’t bring flashlights to a witch gathering in the woods. Our intention is to spy, not get hexed ourselves.”

“Riiight.”

Scully and Mulder wave at the turtles at the edge of the water as they cross the bridge at the creek to enter the wooded area. They stop at the entrance to listen. Murmurs, leaves crushed under feet.

Mulder leans in to Scully. “Told ya.”

“There’s a difference between practicing Wicca and being an actual magical witch,” she whispers back, but he’s already starting off into the trees. Scully considers the flashlight in her hand and against her better judgement leaves it off.

The distant lights of the dorms and street lamps allow Scully to at least see her own hand in front of her face, but not much beyond that. She can vaguely make out Mulder’s dark shape in front of her, though that may be a projection of her hearing sense as his footsteps crunch the ground as he walks.

When he stops dead in his tracks she runs smack into his back and drops the flashlight on her foot. “Ow! Mulder!”

“Shh!” He pulls Scully with him behind a tree, from which they see a gathering of young women in a clearing. 

They stand in a circle, their hands clasped, with candles in the center and all around them. “I would’ve expected, I dunno, hooded black cloaks or something,” Scully says. The girls are in various types of outfits -- sports jerseys and sundresses, gothic and preppy. As a whole they don’t exactly scream black magic.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Sculls.”

One girl with long blonde hair steps forward carrying what appears to be a wine bottle. She shakes it while chanting something that Scully can’t make out.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Mulder asks. “Something about malevolence? Malice?” Scully shakes her head though he’s not looking at her. “We need to get closer.” He creeps right up to the edge of the trees, the light of the candles illuminating his face.

Scully rolls her eyes. Way to sleuth. She joins him at the edge and pulls him back into the darkness. “You’re going to get us caught.”

A couple of the girls look up suddenly in their direction. Scully’s heart jumps into her throat and she squats down on the ground, grabbing Mulder and bringing him down with her.

“We know you’re out there!” someone yells. “And we know you know who we are! So for your own sake you’d be smart to reveal yourself!”

Scully regains her sense of rationality. They’re just people. “Come on, Mulder, this is ridiculous.” She stands and walks out of the trees into the light, her hands up just in case. “We just wanted to watch,” she says loud enough for everyone to hear.

“We?” Another girl says. Scully looks behind her to see Mulder still missing. She steps back into the trees and out again, this time bringing him along. “We don’t mean you guys any harm.”

“Then why are you infringing on our sacred space?”

Mulder moves closer to the group, stopping outside the circle of candles. “We wanted to see if you were gonna curse anyone else tonight like you did Professor Michaels.”

A few of the girls laugh at Mulder while a couple appear worried. The apparent leader of the coven, the blonde one, asks, “You think we did that?”

“That’s the word around campus,” Mulder says, his hands resting on his hips. “Sounds like you were doing something similar tonight. What’s that about malevolence?”

“You idiot.” She motions to everyone around her. “We’re doing a cleansing spell.”

“Cleansing yourselves of the sin of _murder_?”

“Okay, Mulder, that’s enough,” Scully says, stepping past him into the circle.

“No, no, Scull--”

“We’re very sorry for intruding, everyone. He gets a little carried away--”

“You’ve broken the circle!” someone to Scully’s right yells. Everyone unclasps their hands.

Startled, Scully takes a few steps back, right into another girl, and she knocks a black candle over. “Shit, shit, I’m sorry--” A couple more steps to the right and another candle spills over. “Oh my god.” 

The flame of the first candle sets fire to the pile of leaves on which it landed, the fire traveling over to meet the second spilt candle. Scully and the rest of the girls move away from the fire on instinct. “These should really be kept in some kind of glass container!” It’s an acknowledgment made out of desperation as the fire continues to grow and kindle and a few of the girls make a beeline into the woods.

Scully steps on the fire as she would a cigarette but it doesn’t seem to do any good. “Does anyone have any water?”

The blonde shakes her head, holding up the bottle. “Just wine. And sour milk.” She picks up a couple not-engulfed-in-flames candles and hurries to a safe distance.

Scully turns to Mulder who has backed away into the trees once again. “Mulder!” she says, pulling him toward the fire. “You have to help! This is ... not entirely my fault!” She looks back at him to find him frozen, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “Mulder?”

“I gotta get outta here, Scully,” he says, his eyes glued to the fire.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“He’s right,” the blonde says, edging closer to the trees with her only two remaining friends. “We need to go, call the fire department, something.”

“Great idea,” Mulder says, taking Scully by the wrist and running into the woods like the devil’s after him.

Back on the other side of the creek, Mulder finally stops and lets go of Scully, catching his breath. “What was that all about?” She places her hands behind her head to open her lungs.

Before he can answer, they’re interrupted by campus security, a couple of the girls who ran ahead of them watching from the other side of the street. The sirens of a firetruck wail in the distance.

“Scully--”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

* * *

It’s not the first time they’re sitting together in Skinner’s office and if Mulder has his way it won’t be the last. Scully sits up straight, her hands folded in her lap. Mulder slouches. Skinner leans forward, hands clasped on the desktop.

“Mr. Mulder, Miss Scully. You two are very lucky word of this _incident_ got to me before it got to your associate dean,” he says.

Mulder nods. “Very lucky.”

“You do realize you could have faced significant disciplinary action for this?”

“Of course, Professor Skinner,” Scully says, making eye contact. “It was an accident that could have been much worse and we deeply regret what happened.”

“Starting fires? In the woods? I mean, haven’t you learned anything from Smoky the Bear? And the day before finals begin, not to mention.”

“Lighten up, Skinman,” Mulder says. “Thanks to our brave first responders, the fire was put out almost as quickly as it was started.”

“What exactly were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?”

Before Scully can formulate a dignified response, Mulder blurts out -- “We were investigating a murderous coven of witches operating on campus.”

Skinner is capable of rolling his eyes even harder than Scully. “Of course that’s what you were doing. What else would you be doing?”

“Who do you think all those other girls were? They’re not friends of Scully’s or mine -- they’re witches.”

“Not my students, not my interest.” Skinner leans back in his chair, rubs his bald head. “I can’t keep pulling you two out of the fire -- so to speak -- your entire college careers. If you don’t start exerting a little more, dare I say, _prudence_ , you are going to end up getting into some serious trouble. I’d suggest you reign him in a little, Miss Scully. Or do yourself a favor and stay home next time.”

Scully swallows, nods twice. “We’ll both certainly apply better judgement moving forward.”

“And Mr. Mulder? Anything of substance to say for yourself?”

“Thanks for always having our back, Skinner. You’re a true ally.” Mulder stands. “We’ll make sure to keep an eye on these witches, in the interest of student and faculty safety.”

Skinner sighs dramatically enough to be heard on the other side of the building. Scully follows Mulder out of the office, gripping her Classical Dynamics textbook and silently vowing to follow through with her threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta mix up the tough stuff with the fun stuff sometimes. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!


	4. Junior Year

_“Dana ... we lost your father.”_

Scully runs out of the library, making her way across campus. Her heavy boots slow her down but she doesn’t notice. She just runs, feeling the burn prickling her lungs. A flannel tied around her waist waves behind her like a cape.

She arrives at the off-campus basement apartment panting and sweating, her face flushed and strands of hair sticking to her forehead. Frohike answers the door but somehow he knows not to make any smart remarks. He calls Mulder to the door and skulks back inside. 

“Scully.” Mulder steps outside, puts his hand to her cheek.

She pulls away from him and walks off, motioning for him to follow. Mulder doesn’t press her to talk. He pulls out a pouch of sunflower seeds and eats them one by one as he trails by Scully’s side.

A few blocks later she’s caught her breath and regained her senses, partly regretting showing up to Mulder in an obviously emotional state. She figures she should save face, be matter-of-fact about it. “My dad died.” Mulder stops and gives her a soft look, but she avoids his gaze. They continue walking. His hand hesitates near hers but he doesn’t take it. They both remain silent for a long time.

When they reach the other edge of campus they cross the street and turn back in the direction they came. Scully wonders what Mulder is thinking, having dealt with his own loss before. She’s grateful he skipped the cliched platitudes. 

Back at the home base of the Lone Gunmen, they linger together outside the door. This time Mulder does reach out, wrapping his hand around her small wrist. Her rubs his thumb in circles on her skin. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Something in Scully’s chest breaks and she looks skyward, turning her lips up into a forced smile. She leans against the window ledge until the moment passes. “What did you and the guys want to tell me about? Something big?”

Mulder opens his mouth and shuts it again, waving it off before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Nothing, it didn’t turn out.”

“Come on, Mulder,” she says. “There isn’t anything that just doesn’t turn out for you.”

He relents. “There’s been a cluster of UFO sightings in southern Virginia over the past three weeks. We wanted to investigate, check with the locals, see if we can see it for ourselves.”

“Okay.” She rolls her shoulders back. “When do you we leave?”

Mulder’s eyebrows pucker, forming a line between them. “Dana ... You don’t have to go.”

“Dana,” she repeats, a short bitter laugh following.

“I don’t need to go either. The guys can gather intel without me, take pictures. It’s for their zine anyway.”

“Mulder, we’re going.” She stands up straight, her shoulders square. “I want to go. I’m not interested in throwing myself a pity party. You’ve dragged me around half the eastern seaboard already, there’s no reason to stop now.” She’s fronting. She knows she is. He knows she is. But she needs him to let her.

“Okay,” he says. “We’re leaving this weekend.”

* * *

Mulder throws his pack into the trunk of his old car, tossing Scully’s in after it.

“Are the Gunmen meeting us, or...?”

“Actually, it’s just gonna me you and me, Sculls. Feeling up for it?”

Scully fingers the buckle of her overalls. She feels a little guilty for being relieved. Mulder she finds she can tolerate, and enjoy, in most any circumstance, but the Gunmen have a tendency to get on her nerves quick and just two days after her father’s funeral, she’s not sure she’d be able to bite her tongue.

Mulder slams the trunk shut, smiling the smile that says he’s knows he’s done good. In the drivers seat, Scully beside him, he pops in a tape he picked up from a local punk band when she took him to their concert last semester.

“What, no Elvis?” she says as the music picks up.

“Even the king needs a little rest sometimes, honey.” He wiggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion and shifts his hips. Scully giggles, the first time she’s laughed all week.

They drive through the streets of the college town in route to the highway, but instead of turning right to go southbound, Mulder keeps going ahead, eventually turning left.

“Mulder, what are you doing?”

“We’re taking what you might call, uh, a scenic route.”

“We’re not stopping at the world’s largest ball of twine are we?”

“Scully, don’t insult me. I only stop for the world’s largest pistachio nut and you know that.”

* * *

After an hour of driving north, Scully figures they’re not going to Virginia. By the second hour the sun is setting and they’re firmly in the middle of nowhere. They stop at a diner for burgers and Diet Cokes, and Mulder is mum about their actual destination. As long as they’re not going camping again, Scully figures she can handle whatever he has in mind.

Well into the third hour, it’s pitch black outside, only the car’s headlights illuminating their way as they drive deeper into nowhere. “I swear to god, Mulder, if we are going into the woods again--”

“We’re here!” Abruptly he turns the car down a dirt road between two grassy hills. He lets off the gas after a while, allowing the car to roll to a natural stop, then shuts off the engine.

“Where is here?”

He grins at her and hurries out of the car over to the trunk. She hesitates, the handle in her grip, deciding to go ahead and surrender to the situation. There aren’t any trees in sight, so it can’t be that bad. She opens the door and steps out into the fresh air. The nights are sticky in a nice, loving sort of way, unlike the oppressive humidity of the afternoon.

Mulder throws his bag over his shoulder and closes the trunk. “C’mon, Scully!” He gallops off toward one of the hills, knowing she’ll be close behind him. She always is. The hill has a low slope and he kneels in the grass, opening his pack and removing two blankets along with water bottles and another bag full of snacks. Scully watches as he spreads one blanket out on the ground before settling down on it. He reaches out toward her. “C’mon, sit with me.” The light of the moon glints off the lenses of his glasses.

Scully smiles despite herself and takes a seat next to Mulder, criss-crossing her legs. He hands her the bag of food and a water bottle. “This is what we drove almost four hours for? Sitting and eating peanut butter crackers?”

“I know it’s not organic, but I hope you’ll appreciate the effort.”

Her smile widens and she shakes her head, closing her eyes. This guy. “So what, exactly, are we going to do all night?”

Mulder shrugs. “Enjoy solitude together, ponder the vast cosmos. If that sounds good to you.”

Scully gives a little shrug in return. “Sounds good.”

Mulder shifts further down the blanket and lies back, using his folded hands as a headrest. Scully follows suit, bunching up her flannel for a makeshift pillow. She stretches out, a warm breeze of impending Summer hugging her bare legs. Mulder pushes up the sleeves of his favorite “I Want to Believe” sweater.

“Someday you’re gonna have to relent a little with your shtick and dress for the weather,” Scully says and Mulder laughs sarcastically.

“That’s rich coming from a girl who wears long-sleeved flannels and combat boots through 90 degree days.” His fingers dance against her side, tickling her into a brief fit of giggles.

When she settles, she asks, “How’d you find this place anyway?”

He straightens an imaginary tie. “I know a thing or two.” A pointed look from Scully. “I knew tonight would be one of the clearest of the year, I enlisted a little help from the Gunmen and we found a nice empty spot on the map far away from artificial light. I knew we’d find the perfect place somewhere in that ballpark. And we did.”

“Huh.” She balances the heel of one foot on the toe of the other. 

Scully and Mulder fall silent. The stars above shine bright against the blue-blackness of the sky, swirling around in multitudes as if painted with a deliberate, steady hand. Scully touches the small gold cross around her neck, the one her mother gave her. She wonders if there is a heaven around a far-reaching corner of the universe. She wonders what her father thinks of her -- thought of her.

“My dad used to call me Starbuck,” she says, her gaze fixed on the stars. Mulder fixes his gaze on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! More to follow~


	5. Senior Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! It's been a minute! I could give a long explanation as to why, but what's important here is the bitch is back!
> 
> I don't know if I have any loyal readers, but if I do I hope this new chapter fulfills your expectations. I've been wanting to finish this for forever, and I finally sat down and wrote the ending all in one go. I could probably let it marinate a while longer, but I want it out there (like the truth).
> 
> Here you go!

The first day of classes, Mulder and Scully perch themselves in their usual spot on the quad, watching the annual back to school dodgeball game.

“This is the last one we’re gonna see,” Scully says. Mulder’s eyes are hidden by sunglasses and she can’t read his expression.

“You don’t have homework already, do you?” Mulder says after a beat. 

Scully pulls a textbook and lab notes out of her bag. “I’m writing a thesis, Mulder.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands. “Me too.”

“You never tell me anything about yours. I could read it, give you a perspective beyond Skinner’s.”

He nods once. “When I’m finished.”

Alex Krycek emerges from the throng of students chucking balls at one another and approaches them. “Well if it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Spooky.”

“That nickname was old before college even started, Krycek.”

“Does he keep you up at night mumbling about alien abductions like he did to me freshman year?” Krycek chuckles. Scully’s eyes widen at the assumption.

Mulder bristles. “Don’t you have someone else to go spy on, Krycek?”

“Ohh, right.” Krycek mimes a light going off over his head. “I forgot, I’m part of a government conspiracy created specifically to keep proof of alien life away from _you_. You’re a goddamn loony toon, Mulder.” He laughs.

“Hey!” Scully stands and accosts Krycek, only to realize that he is nearly a foot taller than her. He stares at her for a moment before she regains her fortitude. “You don’t have to believe in Mulder’s cause and you can call him spooky all you want, Krycek, but at least he’s not a literal pile of human garbage like you. Biology got it wrong with you.”

Krycek stands there slack-jawed while Scully places a cigarette between her lips and lights it. She takes a drag and exhales the smoke slowly, aiming it away from Krycek’s face. “Take it down a notch, Mrs. Spooky,” he says, and walks away toward the main building.

When Scully turns around, Mulder is standing, eyebrows raised and lips parted. 

Mulder lowers his sunglasses. “Scully....”

Scully takes one more drag off the cigarette and tosses it to the ground, stamping it out with the sole of her sneaker. She picks up the cigarette butt and stuffs it into her pocket for later disposal. “I don’t know. He was just looking at us with that stupid face, and talking to you like that ... It bothered me. Fuck him.” She looks up at him, his eyes shining with the sunlight.

“That was intense, Sculls.” He nods approvingly.

“I got a little heated.”

“A good way to start senior year.” He hands her her books and bag, slinging his own backpack over his shoulder. He puts his arm around her. “Wanna grab a sandwich at Penny’s?”

They walk together to the off-campus restaurant, Mulder chattering about an article from _The Lone Gunmen_ and Scully only half-listening, preoccupied with wonder over what set her off like that. She’d grown to dislike Alex Krycek over the years, as he showed himself to be the seedy type of guy Mulder typed him to be -- once even breaking into Scully’s dorm room to steal a tape-recording Mulder had gotten of a conversation between Skinner and Dean Spender -- but Scully prided herself on her cool head and kindness. She doesn’t allow herself to ruminate too deeply on where her protectiveness from Mulder comes from, but it feels innate, like it’s always been a part of her, even before she knew Fox Mulder’s name.

* * *

Mulder always knocks, although he essentially lives in Scully’s apartment at this point.

Scully answers the door but quickly turns away to get back to her research. 

Like a vampire invited in, he bursts through the doorway and launches into his latest discovery. “Scully, you’re not gonna believe this.”

Scully crosses her legs on the couch and leans over her notebook, scribbling away. “Mulder—.”

“But hear me out, okay, I just heard—.”

Scully sighs, but it sounds more like a growl. “Mulder. No.”

He shoots her a quizzical look. “Scully—.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

He opens his mouth but no word emerge.

“It’s 2am. I don’t know where the hell you’ve been, but I’ve been here. For days. Working on my thesis. I’ve got a draft due to Skinner tomorrow. So whatever you’re thinking about dragging me into, the answer is no.”

His expression softens. He rushes to the couch, kneels at her side, puts on his best puppy dog eyes. “This is a big one, Sculls. Get this: an alien virus.”

Her arms raise in frustration and slam back down on her notepad, sending her pen flying across the room. “Of course. Say no more.”

He presses his lips together, acknowledging her frustration, before continuing. “The gunmen hacked Cancer Man’s university email inbox and found correspondence between him and G-men from high levels of the government. References to this group, called a Syndicate, and to my father! There’s this project he’s involved in, a vaccine—and I know we’re getting close, because there’s even emails to Skinner. About you and me. This is the thing that’s going to crack this wide open, I know—.”

“—It’s always the thing!” Scully slaps her notebook onto the coffee table in front of her. “Every time you come to me it’s always _this_ is it, _this_ is it. It’s never been it, Mulder. We’ve spent almost four years on this quest of yours and we’re not any closer than we were that night in Spender’s office.”

Mulder’s puppy dog eyes are genuine now, wide and confused. “Don’t you mean our quest? We’re in this together. We always have been.”

“Have we?” Scully has had years of practice ignoring Mulder’s pleading gaze but she’s never been great at it. She looks away from him. “Or have I just been following you into the darkness all this time like some clingy orphan dog?”

“Scully,” Mulder says, standing up straight. “You don’t really believe that.”

She leans back, removes her glasses and tosses them onto the couch cushion. She rubs her tired eyes. “What if I do? Everything we’ve done over the years, you haven’t needed me for any of it. You don’t need me for this latest thing. I’m a sidekick. Maybe it’s finally time I move on, focus on my future.”

“After everything we’ve been through you, that’s what you think? You want quit now?”

Scully shrugs.

“I … Scully, I can only run into the darkness because I know you’re following me. If I hadn’t met you, I really would be nowhere. I’d be that kid getting laughed at at parties.”

“Mulder,” she sighs. “All I’m saying is, you can keep going with your theories and your beliefs—I’m not questioning them. But think about it.” She grabs his hand. “We’re graduating. I’m going to medical school. I can’t keep doing this forever on blind faith.”

Mulder nods, his jaw clenching. He blinks and his eyes remain closed for an extra moment before opening again.

She lets go. “I don’t want to fight, okay? I’m just really, really tired and I want to get this revision typed up for Skinner. Why don’t you get some sleep for once and we can circle back on this in the morning?”

“Actually I’ve got some research to do.” He heads back to the front door. “I’ll call you.”

Scully walks to the door with him. “We’re like a compass.” She squeezes his hand again. “I’m never gonna be far away, even if we’re not at the same point. I’m always around.”

He smiles his sweet, sad smile.

* * *

“I remember,” he says. “I remember, Scully.”

Mulder leans against the frame of Scully’s front door, looking sick and anxious and excited all at once. He doesn’t need to clarify; Scully knows.

“How?” she asks, stepping aside to let him in. “What happened?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of research into alternative psychiatric practices for my thesis and found a lot of evidence to support the effectiveness of hypnotherapy.”

Her eyebrows furrow as she hands him the cup of tea she’d just made for herself. He sits on the couch as she goes to the open kitchen to pour another cup. “You saw a hypnotherapist, Mulder?” She joins him on the couch, pulls her legs up underneath her.

“I’ve been going, for weeks now. I found a doctor in D.C.”

“That’s where you’ve been disappearing to.”

“I knew you’d be critical of it so I didn’t want to tell you until I’d given it a fair shot.” He sets his cup on the coffee table. “But it’s not pseudoscience, Scully. All the memories I lost -- they’re back. I remember. And I was right. Samantha was abducted. I haven’t even processed this yet, I practically ran over here.”

Despite everything they’ve seen over the last four years, Scully is still not entirely convinced of the alien abduction theory -- but she believes in Mulder. “What happened to her?”

“Our parents weren’t home,” he says. “I was in charge. God, I was in charge. We were playing Stratego, watching TV. That’s when they came, in this bright, all-consuming light. I couldn’t move. And they took her, the aliens took her and she was screaming my name, just like I remembered, screaming for me to help her, and I couldn’t. All this time, Scully, I was right.” His face becomes somber and he picks up the cup of tea, presses it between his palms. “I couldn’t save her.”

“Mulder...,” Scully begins, though she doesn’t know where the thought is going. “You were a child. It wasn’t your job to save her.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding like he doesn’t believe it.

“Now, here I am, I couldn’t save her and I haven’t even managed the one thing I set out to do to make things right. You were right, Scully, we’re not any closer to the truth now than we were four years ago. I know she was abducted, but I still don’t know why. I don’t know if I ever will.”

A wave of guilt hits Scully for questioning Mulder, but she reminds herself her frustrations are valid. That doesn’t help the hurt in Mulder’s eyes, the hurt in Scully’s heart when she looks into them.

“It’s not over yet.” His chin in her hand, she turns his face toward her. “The truth is out there, Mulder. You still have a lot of time to find it. If this is really as big as you say, it’s not going to end here, now. It’ll only grow. You will find what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, Scully.” There is something in his voice Scully can’t quite place. It’s not an acceptance of defeat, but something even more devastating. It’s a goodbye.

Panic rises in her chest. “Mulder, don’t -- Don’t take this all on by yourself. You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be.”

He gives her hand a quick but firm squeeze. “I have to go.” He stands, walks to the door. “Thank you for the tea.”

She hurries after him, wants to wrap her arms around him and stop him from going any further. He opens the door but stops, turns toward her. He leans forward, kisses her forehead with dry lips. She’s wordless as he walks through the doorway, down the hall, out of sight.

* * *

Mulder doesn’t call in her in the middle of the night for the rest of the semester, doesn’t come banging on her door with a new wild paranormal idea or conspiracy theory, doesn’t beg to watch the Knicks v. Celtics games on her TV. He disappears from her life like a ghost in a cleansed house. 

Plenty of times Scully considers calling him, knocking on his door, inviting herself over. But she doesn’t do that. She respects him too much. 

It’s May and graduation is in a couple weeks and she only has two finals left. One is just an essay for an English class, the other is for her degree. The thing is, she doesn’t care too much about either. She’s already been accepted to the medical school of her choice. Another test is just a formality. Scully usually doesn’t mind formalities. Maybe she’s still channeling a little bit of Mulder.

Her textbook has been opened to the same page for an hour and a half. She’s looked at the same formulas, read the same theories. She deserves a smoke break, maybe a coffee break, a tequila break. She slips on a pair of loafers, grabs her bag, and heads for the door.

She turns a corner to get to the stairs and her forehead meets a tall man’s sturdy chest. “What are the odds of meeting you here,” says Mulder.

She takes a step back, gives him a once over. Back from the dead. She has a hundred things to say, what are you doing here, where have you been, I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again before I leave. All she can say is, “Mulder.”

“I was just, uh, in the neighborhood.” A single forced laugh. “I wanted to tell you I’m not going to be at graduation. I mean, yours or mine.”

“Where are you going to be?”

He stuffs his fists in the pockets of his dark jeans. “A plane, actually. I’m leaving. For England.”

“So you did apply to Oxford.”

He nods. “We’ll both be doctors after all.” _Come with me._ “I just feel like ... I have to go. I have to get out of here. All this stuff with my ... It’s too much.”

She leans against the wall, crosses her arms. _Ask me to come with you._ She wouldn’t, she’s pretty sure she wouldn’t if he asked. But she wants him to ask. “I hope you...,” she shrugs, trying to find the words, “find what you’re looking for.”

He bites his lip.

“I know it’s the most important thing to you.”

“You do know everything,” he says, and it’s only a reflection of their past banter. “I didn’t want to not see you again before I leave.”

“I’ll be starting medical school in the fall. Spend a few weeks at home with Mom and Missy, moving in July.”

Mulder smiles a happy, sad smile. “I bet you’ll be running the world by the time you’re thirty.”

She returns the smile. “And I bet you’ll be dismantling it.” 

“You might have _too_ much faith in me, Sculls.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

He removes his hands from the pockets, stretches his fingers. “If you’re ever in England.”

_I love you._

She tightens her grip on the strap of her bag. “I’ll be sure to look you up.”

_I love you._

They pull each other into a hug, both unsure who initiated it, both wondering who will be the first to let go.

It’s Scully. “See you, Spooky.”

“Dr. Scully.”

And that’s that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate kudos and comments. Do you guys like this? 
> 
> There's one more chapter after this - promise it won't take 2+ years to publish :)


	6. Beyond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to mentally recover from the season 11 premiere, but I've been resuscitated by the second episode. So here it is, my last lil chapter of this fic.

After years dedicated to medical school, having just barely finished her internship and residency, it’s a shock to everyone that Dana elects to pursue a career in law enforcement. Her brother Bill invokes their father: “What would Dad say if he saw you throw everything away?” Her mother is kinder but still not understanding. Melissa tells her to follow her path.

Dana herself isn’t sure what draws her to the FBI, just knows she wants to help people, and somehow this feels like the best way to do that. A little reluctantly, she trades in fishnet and black for wool and gray. Platform Creepers for two-inch heels. The piercings come out, the obviously brighter than natural hair color. It’s different, a little plainer, but it’s right. This is her path. No longer Dana or Scully or Dr. Scully, she becomes Agent Scully. She likes the ring of it. She’s eager to work.

She’s a few weeks into the academy when whispers about the genius Spooky Mulder begin circulating. She first hears that name from a few other trainees talking excitedly, passing a newspaper between them. She wedges her way into the conversation.

“Did you say Spooky Mulder?”

A young blond man turns to her. “Yeah, have you heard of him?”

She’s tempted to tell everyone that that nickname was old by the end of high school. Instead she grins to herself. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t read the paper?” He hands her their copy of the Post.

She eyes the headline: RITUAL CHILD MURDERER OFF THE STREETS. Then beneath it in smaller letters: serial killers closer to normal than we think.

She glances over the article. “Monty Propps. Gosh, they’ve been trying to get this guy for what, a decade?”

“And guess who finally got him.”

She scans the article again. “The only one named is the FBI director.”

“Well, they’re not gonna print Spooky’s name in the Washington Post. But rumor has it he’s responsible.”

Her face feels warm. “Wait—I’m confused. Spooky Mulder…?”

The man shakes his head. “He graduated from the Academy about three years ago, but the guy’s a weirdo. I have a friend who was in his class—said he was wicked smart but a real obsessive. Conspiracies, MK Ultra type shit, even—,” he laughs, “aliens. My friend never understood how the hell he passed the psych eval. I guess now we know.” He raps the paper with the back of his hand.

Her stomach lurches upward like she’s on a roller coaster. It’s been almost ten years. It feels like she’s thought of him every day. But she never looked him up.

When she doesn’t respond, the man continues. “The FBI’s been hitting dead end after dead end for years, right? They put Agent Mulder in the BSU and,” he snaps, “the guy wrote a monograph on serial occult killings that led them straight to this Monty Propps guy. Agent Mulder’s about to be a goddamn legend.”

She hugs the newspaper to her chest and smiles a smile that must look strange to an observer—one that tries to keep tears from bursting, her heart from bursting. After all this time, he’s still out there. Searching. Fighting. Somehow she’s still following him.

She peers back up at her classmate. “I hope to meet the legend one day.”

* * *

_Why is she nervous. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Why is she nervous._

As Agent Scully makes her way down to the basement, past seemingly miles of rows of old boxed evidence, paperwork, and other junk, she reminds herself to take deep even breaths. 

She knocks.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s Most Unwanted.”

She stifles a chuckle, composes herself before entering. A dull light washes over her when she opens the door and there he is, hunched over a series of photo slides on an overhead projector. She takes in his image like a photograph. His glasses are a little squarer, his themed sweaters replaced with a respectable striped button down. His favorite slogan, “I Want To Believe” is now plastered on his office wall in the form of a poster, along with dozens of photos of UFOs and human remains and the like. Thick files and binders cover every inch of desk space. 

After all this time.

“Agent Mulder,” she says, and he turns to look at her. “I’m Dana Scully. I’ve been assigned to work with you.” She offers her hand.

Without missing a beat, he shakes it. “Well isn’t it nice to suddenly be so highly regarded.”

And they’re back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just ...... love Mulder & Scully so much so I hope that came across for y'all. I'd really appreciate it if you made it to the end if you would leave a comment and let me know what you thought of this, my first X-Files ff! Maybe I'll write another one! Who knows!


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